


D.A. continues: Last years of the roaring twenties

by Nick_Carpenter



Series: Downton Abbey continues [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Historical References, Hope, Jealousy, M/M, Romance, Tension, Threats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nick_Carpenter/pseuds/Nick_Carpenter
Summary: Be sure you've read Part 1 (= 1926) otherwise it will be difficult to follow.I hope you'll enjoy it.Greetings, Nick





	1. Of Mice and Men

Part 2 - D.A. continues: last years of the roaring twenties

 

 

Saturday, January 1st 1927.

 

He was listening to the nocturnal sounds. The wind was howling round the Abbey as if there was a pack of wolves. Windy winter weather but not very cold. Thomas’ eyes were wide open! He stared at the sloping ceiling of his bedroom barely illuminated by the weak light of the moon shining through the attic window. He couldn’t get to sleep. Perhaps it was due to the buzz and tittle-tattle of the guests who had come to celebrate New Year’s Eve and who had received one glass of champagne too many.

At two o’clock at night, the butler was exhausted but still awake. Lying on his bed, his eyes fixed onto the ceiling, he was contemplating the past year. Only twelve months ago he had become the new butler. Still, 1926 had been a tough one: Andy’s disease, the threats made by Denker, the attack on Andy by that nasty Cruikshank, the tension and then finally the mutual acceptance of their love. Thomas should've been satisfied but he was worried and preoccupied about what 1927 might bring.

“How must we go further?” he sighed. “Will they ever accept us?”

_tap tap_

“Yes?”  
“Can I come in?”  
“Andy, you’re already in. You know my door isn’t locked. What’s the matter?”  
“Happy New Year!”  
“Yes, same to you. But I know you well enough by now for knowing that isn’t the reason to sneak in like a little mouse!”  
“I heard you murmuring, Thomas, and so I knew you weren’t asleep. I can’t sleep either; it’s too cold in my room. Can I sleep in here?”  
“Yes, you can but don’t put your ice cold feet against mine like you did last time!”

Andy crept in the small bed and pressed himself gently against Thomas’ back like the bowls of two spoons.

“Andy you’re not feeling cold at all! Were you feeling lonely perhaps?” Thomas asked over his shoulder.  
“Mmmh!”  
“Mmm, what?”  
“Mm…mister Barrow?”  
“You merry-andrew! I agree we can’t lie down on our back like that Tutankhamun-chap but you’re taking more than one half of the bed.” said Thomas.  
“Is there a third one in here?” Andy joked.  
“You know that Egyptian pharaoh! Lord Grantham has financed Howard Carter’s excavations till November 1922.”  
“Now I understand why there are so many special jars in that cupboard downstairs. Someone has brought a souvenir from Egypt!” the footman noticed.

Thomas didn’t comment on that but said: “Tomorrow they will open his tomb for public viewing for the first time in 3254 years!”  
“You mean today! We’re already the first of January!”  
“Indeed! And the fifth it’s your birthday. What do you want this year, Andy?”  
“All that I longed for, I’m holding right now.” he whispered.  
“You’re such a romanticist! We’d better start to sleep because it will be early morning. Don’t forget to go back to your own room before the others get up!” reacted Thomas.

* * *

Close to noon, Tom Branson entered the kitchen.

“Oh Mr Branson, I didn’t expect you in here.” Mrs Patmore exclaimed. She was stirring the soup like an old witch who was preparing a special potion in her cauldron. “Lunch is almost ready!”  
“Don’t you worry, Mrs Patmore, I didn’t come to bother you. As a matter of fact, I just come back from our garage in York. Can I speak to Ms Baxter, please?”  
“I believe she’s in her sitting room.” the cook replied.

_knock knock_

“Door is open! … Oh Mr Branson, do come in. How can I help you? I thought you were in York?”  
“Exactly! And I come back with very good news!” Branson answered in an enigmatic way.  
“Mr Talbot and you have sold another motorcar?”  
“No, the car shop is closed today. Do you remember that over the last three days we found crumbs everywhere in the garage in York?”  
“Oh yes, the mice plague! You should’ve called the Pied Piper of Hamelin.” the housekeeper suggested.  
“Ms Baxter… there are no mice! When Mr Talbot discovered empty bottles of wine and a plundered refrigerator this morning, we understood that we had a stowaway.”  
“You mean a burglar?”  
“He only stole our food. He must’ve slept in one of the cars Ralph had repaired at the back of the garage.”  
“He?” asked Baxter.  
“Indeed! And now comes the good part: it was Peter Coyle who had escaped and had found a shelter in our car shop. Luckily he was as drunk as a skunk. We immediately rang the police who came to arrest and handcuff him.”  
“Oh thank the Lord!” Baxter exclaimed. “At least that’s a good start of 1927! But I still don’t understand why he didn’t take one of your cars and fled?”  
“Because a mouse that has but one hole is quickly taken! We think he doesn’t know how to drive and besides, there’s almost no petrol in the cars.”  
“Thank you very much, Mr Branson, for bringing me this good news. I expect Sergeant Willis any moment now. He will drop in to drink his New Year’s blackcurrant liqueur from the Red Berry Farm.”  
“In that case, I will leave you, Ms Baxter. We don’t want Sergeant Willis to dry out. Good day.” Branson laughed.

 

Wednesday, January 12th 1927.

 

Lord Grantham was reading the papers in the Library. Mary was teasing him from one of the red sofas:

“Don’t you have enough literature against these walls? There must be some five thousand books in here.” she said.  
“Over 5,650 to be precise! And yet, every now and then you discover something new in these papers. For example: did you know that yesterday 36 Hollywood people gathered at a hotel in L.A. to found the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences?” asked Lord Grantham complacently.  
“Good Heavens! That’s important news. You’d better call immediately Edith so she can put it in her magazine.” Mary reacted stoically. “Was Warner Baxter there as well?”  
“I couldn’t care less.” Her father responded.

At that moment, Barrow came in with a letter.

“Morning Milord, a letter has arrived.”  
“Presumably from an American celebrity!” Mary exclaimed.

The butler didn’t react and left the room.

“Oh, a letter from the Honourable Evelyn Napier!” said Robert. “I wonder where our magician has been all that time. As a suitor it’s perfectly normal that he makes a detour through the father.”  
“Papa! I’m a married woman now!”  
“Please, don’t play the shocked and offended Mary with me. I know you too well!”  
“What does he write?”  
“It’s an invitation. His friend Malcolm Campbell will attempt to break a record on Pendine Sands in Wales, on February 4th.”  
“He knows how much I hate car races. Couldn’t he show us one of his card tricks?” Mary said. “I wonder what he’s up to.”  
“I remember him as an elegant, modest, well-mannered and good looking young man.” added her father.  
“All right! All right! He’s mister perfect! He’s a keen hunter, we’re both Sagittarius and we both love horse riding. It puzzles me even more why on earth he’s all of a sudden interested in car racing. Maybe to impress Henry?”  
“Or maybe because his uncle has built that Blue Bird-car?” noticed Lord Grantham. “When the cat’s away, the mice will play! _Ludi incipiant!_ ”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the Latin proverb: "Let the games begin!"


	2. Jealousy lives upon doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I have to apologise to my many followers. Due to my job, I didn't find the time to update. So I'm truly sorry for this delay. I hope you'll enjoy it. Greetings, Nick

D.A. continues: last years of the roaring twenties

 

2\. Jealousy lives upon doubts

 

Saturday, February 5th 1927.

“Nearly 175 miles per hour?” exclaimed Mary. “That’s not even stupid or dangerous. It’s just insane!”  
“Women! They’ll never understand the challenge. The feeling you get when the wind is whistling in your ears, the control of the wheel, the thrill to tame a powerful engine!” reacted Henry.

Both came down the grand staircase, arguing, before going into the Dining room where breakfast was served.  
“Oh Henry, stop it! It’s like you’re talking about taming a wild beast. We’re not living in the Stone Age anymore, looking for mammoths. You know how much I hate car races.”  
“So why did you go then anyway? It looked to me as if you had a pretty good time standing next to Evelyn on Pendine Sands.”  
“Oh look who’s talking now! Mr Jealous! First of all Evelyn wasn’t driving the motorcar; secondly we have known each other for quite a long time now and…”  
“… in third place?” Henry asked impatiently.  
“I couldn’t let you go all by yourself, could I?” said Mary.  
“Tom and your parents were there too! Anyhow I’m glad that Evelyn’s friend Malcolm broke the world record.”  
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Mary cried out loudly. “It’s if you have forgotten all about Charlie!”  
“I’m still thinking about him daily! But life goes on. I didn’t have the impression that you were thinking of Charlie yesterday, giggling in the presence of Mister Napier!”  
“Darling, you’re so adorable when you’re jealous.”  
“Let’s enter and have breakfast!” replied Henry.  
...  
“Good Morning, Papa. I’m starving.” said Mary while entering the room.  
“Good Morning, Mary.” answered Lord Grantham who was occupied reading the papers.  
“I see that you’re totally absorbed by that newspaper. I guess the same twaddle and complaining as always?” she remarked.  
“As a matter of fact, I’ve just discovered some interesting things.” Robert said. “In Portugal a revolt broke out and in Japan they will bury their emperor next week.”  
“Like I said already: how fascinating.” Mary ironically remarked.  
“Did you know that last month the Dutch started to build a dam in the sea? The Enclosure Dam will be 20 miles long once completed in 1932.” Her father tried again.  
“Five years? Let’s hope they won’t have a hurricane in the meantime like we had last week. Nineteen people were killed in that storm in Scotland.” Henry said.  
“That was something unseen!” said Mary while eating a poached egg on toasted bread.  
“Yes, unseen like this world record of your friend Malcolm.” noticed her father. “He would ride that dike in 7 minutes.”  
“He’s not my friend!”  
“That’s true,” interrupted Henry, “it’s only Evelyn who’s your friend, isn’t he.”  
“Oh, don’t you start again!” snapped Mary.

After breakfast, Thomas, who had been standing next to the buffet the whole time, approached Lord Grantham.  
“I beg your pardon, Milord. Could I ask for your permission to go to York this afternoon? Mr Molesley and Andrew are here to help.” said Thomas.  
“Yes fine. Of course we want you back before evening falls.”  
“It won’t take long. I promise I’ll be back in time to serve dinner.”  
“Where is Andrew anyway?” His Lordship asked.  
“I guess he’s wandering somewhere downstairs. Shall I look for him?”  
“No thank you. There’s no need to.”

* * *

That afternoon, dark grey clouds gathered in the sky above York. The heavens opened and immediately the rain was pouring down. As soon as he left the train station, Thomas put the collar of his coat upright trying to protect his face. Luckily for him the pub was just across the river Ouse. By the time he got there, the rain shower was almost over.  
The interior was quirky but with a warm atmosphere. He looked around but didn’t immediately see his tête-à-tête partner until he heard someone calling his name.

“Thomas, over here!”  
“A nice table next to the window? Well chosen!”  
“Typically something for you to meet in a pub that carries your name and I quote: ‘somewhere halfway between the bridge and the Minster’! How are you?”  
“Nice to see you too, Jimmy. You can’t imagine how much I looked forward to this moment.” said Thomas while shaking hands.  
“Can I buy you a beer?” suggested Jimmy.  
“Yes thank you, but the next one is for me. So, tell me, you’ve found a place here in York? Are they ancient nobility? Or is it a wealthy family?”  
“Calm down, Thomas, it’s nothing like that!”  
“But you wrote to me that it’s in a big house?”  
“Yes, that wasn’t a lie. The big house is the Royal Station Hotel owned by the London and North Eastern Railway.”  
“Don’t tell me that you’re the maître d’hôtel now?” wondered Thomas.  
“No, not at all! The staff is kind and the food is great but I’m just a simple waiter. A waiter who doesn’t earn a lot…”  
“And where do you stay? In a room at the hotel?”  
“For the time being, yes. But you can barely call it a room. It’s more like an enlarged broom cupboard!”  
“Poor thing. Do you like the job?”

Jimmy looked straight into his eyes. There was a sense of doubt and despair.  
“Thomas, after just one week I already have the feeling that I’m fading away. I don’t know if I belong there.”  
“I see. You can’t compare it to Downton Abbey of course, but at least it’s work. Perseverance is the word. Don’t give up too soon.”  
“You don’t understand. I’ll never be happy in that hotel. It’s like a factory. I miss the days at Downton. Especially in the winter when we all sat down around the fireplace or when we were playing cards.”  
“I know. But these days are gone as well.” explained Thomas. “The fire place is still there but the number of staff has shrunk. Everyone has different tasks now.”  
“I assume that my return to Downton is not wanted?” tried James.  
“Oh Jimmy, it would make things too complicated. And don’t forget where his Lordship has found you on that dreadful evening, now three years ago.”  
“That evening with Lady Anstruther was a mistake, I admit. But don’t you know any manor that’s in search of a footman or a butler? I’m not a whippersnapper anymore!”  
“Actually, when I come to think of it,” said Thomas, “Lady Chesterfield is looking for a valet or a footman.”  
“Chesterfield? Isn’t she known miles around for her horses?” asked James.  
“She’s the one!” answered Thomas. “Lady Chesterfield lives at Beningbrough Hall, 8 miles from here. I’ll make some inquiries and let you know as soon as possible. The second drink is now on me.”

James laid his hand on Thomas’ glove.  
“Thank you Thomas. You’re a true friend. I regret that we have lost contact.”  
“A lot has changed in those three years. I used to smoke like a chimney in the early days, now I’ve given up smoking.”  
“Golly! You keep on surprising me. Is there perhaps someone new in your life?” James asked curiously.  
“Yes, there is someone. He works at Downton too.” confided Thomas in a low voice.  
“He…?” James was perplexed but not in shock. “I…, I hope you’ll find peace within yourself and happiness together.”  
“Tell me, Jimmy, where have you been the last 3 years?”  
“After Downton, I worked in a London restaurant where I played the piano. But the capital is very expensive to rent a room, you know. So after one year I moved again and came back to Yorkshire. I worked till December at the Scarborough Grand Hotel. When I heard that the job of headwaiter was vacant at the Royal Station Hotel I handed in my notice at Scarborough. Unfortunately, the job was already taken. You know the rest.”  
“You may be ambitious but don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched! Let’s stay in touch. I know someone at Beningbrough Hall. I could put in a word for you.”  
“I would be very thankful. Can I accompany you to the station? My hotel is just a stone’s throw away!” said James.  
“Haha, your hotel? Of course, you can!”  
“You know what I mean.”

* * *

As soon as Thomas entered Downton Abbey through the backdoor, Andy came to meet him.  
“Finally! There you are! It’s five o’clock! Thomas, where have you been all that time?” Andy asked in a worried manner.  
“It’s Mister Barrow downstairs, Mister Parker! Besides, I thought that I had informed you. I had to meet someone in York.”  
“Someone I know?”  
“You’re far too curious for a footman.”  
“Maybe as first footman I have the right to know?” tried Andy.  
“Haha, these days everyone thinks he’s got rights. Only rights and no obligations.” remarked Thomas. “You will know what you need to know. I’m going up now to change clothes.”

Andy stayed behind in the corridor, all alone, pouting included. Anna, who accidentally had overheard their conversation from the boot room, came to the rescue.  
“I know how you must feel right now: misunderstood and abandoned.” she said. “You weren’t meddlesome. You weren’t a ‘nosy parker’.”  
“Your play on words is hilarious.”  
“No, I mean, at first you were worried about him not knowing where he could be. Afterwards, seeing him back, you were relieved.”  
“Is it so obvious?”  
“Your secret is safe. Give him some space. I’m convinced that he just went for a drink with someone.”  
“Thanks for your understanding.” Andy said.  
“In life, we’re only jealous when it concerns the ones we love.” she said before going back into the boot room.

* * *

That evening, supper had been delicious as always. Mrs Patmore had invented a new dessert: a vanilla trifle with berries and macaroons. All crystal dessert cups were emptied to the bottom. Before they left the table, Henry remarked:

“Barrow, would you be so kind to pass our compliments to Mrs Patmore. She has surpassed herself. Once more, I have to admit.”  
“I’ll pass the message, Sir.”

While the butler pulled Branson’s chair back, Tom asked him:  
“Barrow is it possible, on my way back from our car shop that I saw you in York this afternoon?”  
“That’s very possible, Sir.”  
“I saw you walking on the bridge with that charming James Kent. Or do my eyes have betrayed me?”  
“No Sir, you’re right. It was the first time in three years.”  
“That must’ve brought some memories back. See you in the Smoking Room, Barrow.”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
After the ladies were gone to the Drawing Room and the gentlemen had lit their cigar, no one had seen the consternation and dismay on Andy’s face.

 

Monday, February 14th 1927.

It was late in the evening. Everybody had gone up. It was only in Thomas’ bedroom where the light was still on.

 _knock knock_  
“Yes!”

His door slowly turned open. A familiar face peeked through the door opening.  
“Can I have a word with you?”  
“Sure Andy, come in. No need to ask as you should know by now.”  
“I’ve come to thank you for your lovely Valentine’s card…”  
“My pleasure!”  
“… although I don’t know how to interpret it.” the footman said.  
“What do you mean? Just like I wrote: ‘for ever’.”  
“Please Thomas, be honest with me. Are you seeing someone else?”  
“Huh?”  
“Do you love someone else?”  
“Why do you think…?”  
“James Kent?”  
“Oh no!” Thomas sighed while shaking his head. “Is that the reason why you were so quiet last week? Come here and sit with me on the bed.”  
“Please tell me that it isn’t true! Is that his letter on your table?” begged Andy.  
“You daft apeth! Come here, you!” said Thomas while holding him tight. “How can you ever doubt?”  
“Is he the one that you saw in York just like Tom Branson mentioned?”  
“Yes, we met at a pub. He worked here several years as a footman. I admit, back in the days, I had a crush on him but it wasn’t mutual. After Lord Grandham had found him in bed with a female guest, he got sacked.”  
“I apologise. I didn’t know.”  
“Your jealousy and feelings are tender. It’s my fault for not having told you the whole story.” said Thomas.  
“Please forgive me. How can I make it up to you?”  
“Haha, stay here with me this night. I know a nice way of reconciliation,” Thomas suggested, “because right now, I have other issues.”  
“What do you mean?” asked Andy.  
“Here, read this letter! I received it this morning.” said Thomas while handing him over an unfolded sheet of paper with a typed text:

SO, you’re back on track?  
Apparently, vermin like you and your footman is hard to exterminate.  
Maybe we have to inform the police!  
Let me send you this lovely Valentine’s poem:

  
Masculine women, feminine men  
which is the rooster, which is the hen?  
It’s hard to tell them apart today! And, say!  
Sister is busy learning to shave,  
brother just loves his permanent wave,  
it’s hard to tell them apart today! Hey, hey!  
Girls were girls and boys were boys when I was a tod,  
now we don’t know who is who, or even what’s what!  
Knickers and trousers, baggy and wide,  
nobody knows who’s walking inside.  
Those masculine women and feminine men!

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is the text of a song (1926). Source: Wikipedia - Roaring Twenties


	3. A spring breeze

3\. A spring breeze

 

Monday, April 11th 1927.

The morning sun was shining upon the roofs of York. A gentle breeze swept the sleepiness off the streets.

“Henry, this feels good!” said Tom while stepping out of their motorcar.  
“You mean the mild temperature?” wondered Mary’s husband.  
“No! Didn’t you read the papers this morning? Tomorrow, Ireland will be a free state!”  
“Oh you mean that. Our last day in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.” remarked Henry.  
“Exactly! Free at last!”  
“Except from the northern part.” added Henry dryly.  
“You’ll see: one day the entire island will be baptised Éire!”  
“One step at the time, my brother-in-law! Maybe you’re going too fast. You’d better not mention that during dinner this evening.”  
“I understand,” said Tom “I don’t want Lord Grantham to have another burst ulcer. On the other hand, you have to admit that it’s more like the divided kingdom from now on.”  
“I disagree: Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!” answered Talbot.  
“Hum, there aren’t that many waves on the river Ouse.” Tom laughed whilst he turned the key of their car shop.  
Henry didn’t say much but frowned his eyebrows while entering the shop. “You know that in a couple of days they will present a new car in Sweden?”  
“Yes, I read about it in the papers. The day after tomorrow. Apparently, the motorcar its name means I roll.” said Tom.  
“What a ludicrous name is that!” exclaimed Talbot as if he wanted to say that only British motorcars had proper names.

* * *

At the same time Thomas ran into Andy in the kitchen.  
“There you are, you little…” but changed his voice and vocabulary when he noticed that they weren’t alone.  
“Oh Mr Barrow, so cheerful this morning?” asked Mrs Patmore, nosy as ever.  
“Yes, I blame the sunny weather!” he shortly responded as in ‘mind your own business’ but more like a curse because he had been caught. “Mrs Patmore, could you make us one of your sage-elderberry-whatever potions to cure our footman’s cough.”  
“No worries, Mr Barrow, I’m totally cured after last month’s influenza epidemic.” said Andrew to assure the butler.”  
“I know but we don’t want to lose you again like we nearly did last year.” reacted Thomas almost in a fatherly tone. “Don’t forget that next weekend the Marquess and Marchioness of Hexham are coming to Downton Abbey! Every member of staff must be at his best. We can’t afford to have ill staff.”  
“I’m as fit as a fiddle!”  
“Oh now you’re playing the violin too?”

The footman turned his head down but looked with a teasing regard from beneath his lashes at the butler. The hierarchy was restored.

“Did you already run through the menu with her Ladyship, Mrs Patmore?”  
“Yes of course.” answered the cook. “Lady Edith and her husband are very fine guests and they always give compliments on the courses but…”  
“But…, Mrs Patmore?” asked the butler. “I’m curious.”  
“It’s Mrs Pelham, the Marquess’ mother who is very demanding about the ingredients.”  
“Oh, I see,” reacted Thomas, “she’s coming too. Well maybe you could make her a stew of sulphur mushrooms, dragon’s blood, bat teeth and snake venom…”

Andy chuckled gleefully and then almost died laughing.  
“Let me ignore that!” said Mrs Patmore while turning her back to the two men.

 

Friday, April 15th 1927.

Beningbrough Hall was majestic. Finally, after years of being neglected, Lady Chesterfield had received the dwelling in 1916 and so it was saved from dilapidation. The view from upon the coach road to the drive and then from the drive to the elegant residence was framed by two lines of small trees. The white morning mist which hung romantically between the trees was now dissipating. The drive led to a wrought iron gate where the family coat of arms was incorporated. The symmetric red facade was crowned by numerous chimneys which increased its grandeur.

Last week, when Jimmy walked for the first time to the entrance decorated with two horses, he was nervous and slightly overwhelmed. The dimensions of the Georgian mansion are much more humble than those of Downton but nevertheless the stately building made an impression on him.

“Goodmorning Mr Kent!” Lady Chesterfield greeted her new footman in the grand Salon in front of the chimneypiece. “Are you already familiar with the house?”  
“Oh yes, Milady, this is a wonderful residence. Just now when I turned thirty, to get the opportunity to work in such splendid surroundings is the biggest birthday gift I have received in years. Let me thank you once more for this chance.” Jimmy answered.  
“Oh you don’t have to thank me. It’s the butler from Downton Abbey who rang and mentioned your name.”  
“I believe he made a phone call to your father, Lord Chesterfield, and put in a good word for me.” said James.  
“That must’ve been a call from the grave considering that my father died some 20 years ago. I think you mean the 10th Earl of Chesterfield as in… my husband.” reacted Lady Chesterfield with in her voice a little tone of amusement.  
“I do apologise, Milady, I must’ve…”  
“No need to apologise. You’re not the first to make that mistake. And it’s Good Friday today!”  
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking… I mean… I’m sorry.”  
“I read in your curriculum vitae that one of your former employers was a lady too, slightly older than me. What happened?” she asked.  
“Oh forgive me but that’s a long story. Lady Anstruther almost died in a fire and I was given the blame.” lied James.  
“But you weren’t responsible for that fire, were you?”  
“No, it was all a misunderstanding.”  
“Apparently you are indispensable to elder women.”  
“Oh Milady, I don’t know about that.”  
“I’m going to the stud farm now. I’ll be back for lunch.”

 

Saturday, April 16th 1927.

The noble guests had arrived around 5 p.m. in the drizzling rain. Miranda had instantly complained about the weather and the muddy roads as if she was used to have golden sands and waving palm trees in Northumberland.

The select company was in the Dining room now. Downton Abbey had kept its reputation throughout different decades as a house of fine dining. Not in the least thanks to the cookery skills of Mrs Patmore and Daisy for whom it had almost become a ritual to prepare once more a delicious three course meal.

All had finished their first course, a pâté with Armagnac, when Bertie’s mother, in a charming way, told Lord Grantham:  
“ I really enjoyed this tasteful dish. My compliments to your cook!”  
“Thank you. And there’s more to come. This time without Brussels sprouts!” reassured Lord Grantham.

On these words, Thomas looked sideways at Andy, didn’t change a muscle in his face, but his eyes we’re full of satisfaction and hilarity. Andy had the same look in his eyes. The two men didn’t need words to understand each other or even to pass a message. In their position, they had learned the art of the non-verbal: whether it was to express their feelings or to mock someone.

It was Cora who took the liberty to quickly change the subject.  
“So, tell me, Lord Hexham…”  
“Please, we had agreed to call me Bertie in here.”  
“Tell me, Bertie, how are you coping with your roof after this year’s winter?” she wanted to know.  
“Hum, what can I say? Je ne vois pas la vie en rose! The roof is leaking and in some spots we have mould in the attic.”  
“Join the club of castle owners!” reacted Robert. “We have the same problem but every time that…”  
“No, papa! You won’t launch the idea of an open house again!” exclaimed Mary.  
“And if it were the only possibility?”  
“I understand what your father means.” said Bertie. “We’re not talking about several square feet but square yards!”  
“Roof leads must be replaced,” added Edith, “and that costs a lot more than we expected.”  
“If only your cousin Peter hadn’t been in Tangiers so often, he would’ve left you a decent house!” said Miranda.  
“Mother! You know that isn’t true. Although I have to admit that there’s enough water trickling in to grow our own collection of…”  
“Fish!” exclaimed Miranda.  
“Let’s not exaggerate, Mother! I would’ve said a collection of mushrooms.”  
“Bertie, don’t be daft! I was talking about this evening’s dinner. Look!”

Mr Molesley and Andrew came in to serve a fillet of snow white cod accompanied by crayfish, asparagus and cooked potatoes. A hollandaise sauce made the dish complete. The butler poured out a Sauvignon Blanc from 1924.  
For a moment it was like time had stood still all those decades. Lord and Lady Grantham with their two daughters and their husband, Bertie’s Mother, Tom, and Isobel and Dickie, all were enjoying the chic and elegant feast.

“I wonder,” said Edith, “if tomorrow the weather’s going to be dry for an Easter egg hunt?”  
“Are you afraid that the Easter bunny will slip and slide?” asked her mother.  
“Well you know how fond Marigold and the others are of that Easter rabbit.” Edith answered.  
“In fact,” corrected Lord Grantham, “it’s not a rabbit but a hare.”  
“Or how eggs have replaced the commemoration of the resurrection of Christ…” remarked Tom dryly, not able to hide his catholic descent.  
Henry almost immediately picked up on that: “I thought that Easter was about celebrating spring and nature.”  
Tom shook his head: “Eat your fish and enjoy the spring-asparagus my friend!”

 _Cough…, cough, cough, cough…_  
“What is the matter?” exclaimed Bertie looking with anxiety at his mother.

 _Cough…, cough, cough, cough…_  
She kept coughing. All fellow-guests fell silent and realised that Miranda was choking. Her son didn’t hesitate and beat several times firmly on her back. Suddenly a large fishbone flew out of her mouth. Tears stood in her eyes.

“Do you all want to murder me?” she exclaimed. “If even your cook doesn’t know how to fillet a fish! What is this for a place?”

Nobody had ever seen Miranda Pelham that furious.  
“We do apologise.” said Lord Grantham. “Is everything all right now?”  
“Barrow, could you offer Mrs Pelham a glass of water please?” suggested Cora.  
“No need to!” Miranda snapped. “I’m going to my room now and will lie down on my bed for a while.”  
“Shall I accompany you?” offered Edith.  
“No dear, thank you. You can finish your meal.”  
“Barrow!” said Lord Grantham. “Will you inform Miss Baxter and see that Mrs Pelham receives anything she asks for?”  
“Immediately Milord.”

Of course the festive atmosphere was broken. Everyone was shocked by the situation and not least by Miranda’s reaction.  
“My mother always finds a way to entertain.” remarked Bertie.

 

Sunday, April 17th 1927.

A spring sun had lured the children outside into the garden in their search for eggs. Numerous daffodils were like little golden stars on a dark green carpet. The adults were overlooking the scene and even Miranda was chatting with Cora in the gardens like nothing had happened the evening before.

As peaceful as it was outdoors, indoors you could cut the tension with a knife. Needless to say that Mrs Patmore was running around in the kitchen with a leg of lamb.  
“Is that mutton or lamb, Mrs Patmore?” joked Daisy.  
“You’ll find out when I’ll hit you with this leg of meat.”  
“Oh Mrs Patmore, don’t be so nervous. It’s not your first Easter meal. Everything will be fine.”  
“I hope that the witch will choke this time in a …” She didn’t finish her sentence seeing that Thomas entered the kitchen.  
“Mrs Patmore,” he asked, “have you seen Andy perhaps?”  
“Yes, he’s with Miss Baxter in her Sitting room.”  
“Perfect! Thank you.”

In three paces the butler stood at her door, knocked and entered.  
“Mr Barrow? How can we help?” she asked.  
Thomas took a crumpled piece of paper out from his livery.  
“Look what I just found in my coat pocket.” he said. “I must’ve left the door from the Butler’s pantry open last evening.”  
“But you wore your livery all evening!” remarked Andy.  
“Yes I know. It wasn’t in my livery. Someone must’ve put it in my coat!”  
Baxter began to read the written message carefully.

 

_DO you really think that you can live on like that?_  
_It was with a reason that God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah!_  
_Be aware that your days are counted._  
_I’m watching you!_

 

“Just now when I thought that all this misery had ended, she’s starting all over again.” said Thomas.  
“She?” echoed Baxter and Andy together.  
“Miranda Pelham of course! Who else?”  
“Why do you think it was written by her?” asked Andy.  
“She was the only guest who has left the table yesterday.”  
“But I went up to her room,” said Baxter, “and she was lying on her bed.”  
“For how long? You didn’t stay the entire evening by her side, did you?”  
“No, afterwards I spent the evening in my Sitting room.” Baxter admitted. “And my door was closed.”  
“She must’ve slipped it in my coat in a quiet unguarded moment.” said Thomas.  
“Hum, strange!” reacted Baxter. “I don’t recognise her handwriting.”  
“She’s clever enough to have it written by someone of her staff and to smuggle it from Northumberland into this house.” said the butler.  
“Isn’t that scaremongering?” asked Baxter.  
“Perhaps, but we can’t go to the police otherwise Andy and I will end up in prison.”  
“So she wins?” exclaimed Andy. “Just like that?”  
“We have no proof that she is the author!” remarked Baxter.  
_knock knock_

All three jumped up like they had seen a ghost.  
“Oh, it’s only you! Come in.” said the housekeeper.  
“Yes, ONLY me. That’s a fine way to welcome someone.”  
“Oh, Mrs Hughes, don’t be offended. Of course you’re always welcome in this house. We apologise. Right now we’re in the middle of a crisis that already lasts more than a year.” said the butler.  
“Well, I have other bad news. Let me give you this envelope.” she said.  
“Another envelope? … No! … A funeral announcement card? So suddenly?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Chesterfield was 48 in April 1927. The Earl of Chesterfield, her husband, was already 73.  
> (Source Wikipedia)


End file.
